Miscalculation
by Skyrie Eve
Summary: The Matrix cannot tell us who we are, but it has shaped us: One look at why Trinity is who she is at the beginning of the first movie. (Finished)


Title: Miscalculation

Author: Skyrie Eve

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The Matrix cannot tell us who we are, but it has shaped us:  One look at why Trinity is who she is at the beginning of the first movie.

Completion Date: September 2, 2003

_The dark sky glimmered, illuminated by the rows of iridescent lights.  A soft breeze teased her cheek, swirling the scent of fresh grass about her.  Power and excitement coursed through her veins.  Her muscles tensed, then exploded into motion.  A mind-numbing blast of crystal sound stole her breath.  The feathery soft silk of her flag whipped against her face, stinging as it snapped in time with the pounding drum beats.  Music swelled around her, filling her with ecstasy, glittering flashes of color, brighter and faster, the crowd cheering Elaina, her name, over and over in a pulsating cacophony- then, silence, crushing soundlessness.  She stood frozen, deaf to the pulsating multitude as a single tear welled behind her closed eyes.  The speaker crackled to life, piercing her trance.  A flick of her wrist and a rustle of fabric, and the flag twirled back into her grasp as she bowed deeply, her heart pounding as a grin spread over her face._

Trinity laughed as she scraped the tears from her cheeks, then silenced as the gravelly echo grated across her ears.  How long had it been; four, five years?  And she still couldn't forget.  

She'd asked Morpheus what the lies of her life in the Matrix meant, once.  The man had paused in his work to study her, his expression intense.

'The Matrix cannot tell you who you are, Trinity.'  He'd leaned close to her, voice hardening as he continued to speak, 'You need to free your mind of that as well.'  

Shaking her head, Trinity leaned against the icy metal of the cabin walls with a sigh.  No, the Matrix couldn't tell the unplugged who they were anymore; it had, however, shaped them.  She was Trinity, second in command, because she'd been Elaina Jenkins, flag twirler extraordinaire.  She couldn't escape it.

"Shut up, Trinity."  She covered her face with her hands.  Morpheus had appointed her second in command because of her ability to not allow her past in the Matrix to influence her current life in the real world; because of her loyalty to the Resistance.  Oh, the irony of it all.

_"You are Trinity," the man's voice held no question.  She looked up, startled.  Who would know that name?  Who would ever connect it with the innocent flag captain?_

_"How'd you get in here?"  Unnerved, she fumbled the sequined wrist cuff she'd forgotten she was holding._

_"Irrelevant.  I have a better question.  What are you searching for?"  The dark man stooped, gingerly fingering the delicate material as he picked up the small band of fabric._

_Her eyes narrowed.  He couldn't mean the Matrix, yet it fit, somehow._

_"I can provide answers, Trinity," he spoke softly as he offered her the sparkling cloth._

_She snatched it from him as she struggled to keep her face neutral.  Holy shit.  He was Morpheus, the man she'd been chasing since she'd first heard the phrase 'the Matrix has you.'_

Trinity ground her fingers into her forehead.  This was ridiculous.  She was supposed to be asleep, enjoying her reward of rest after the difficult run, not fending off ghosts of the past.

"Let it go, for God's sake,"  She hissed, pressing her palms against her eyelids, "Before you get them all killed."

_She swallowed.  She had a flag solo with the Marching Ten-Twenty, the best competition band in existence, and Morpheus wanted her to leave it behind.  He claimed he had something more important for her.  Could this man truly offer a prize greater than the roaring surge of thousands crying her name?  She studied him for a moment, torn between the glory she knew waited and the dazzle of uncertainty._

_"After."  She stared him down, ice blue eyes reflected as glittering points in his sunglasses.  Morpheus held her gaze as a ghost of a smile crept across his face.  He nodded almost imperceptively, then slowly turned away._

Later, she'd asked him why he waited for her.  To Trinity's puzzlement, he'd broken into a sheepish grin.  Morpheus had understood her refusal to leave the band as a sign of her sense of loyalty.  Even as desperate as she'd been to find him, she would risk losing him to carry out her higher duty.  Someone with such a strong sense of dedication, he claimed, could only make a wonderful commander.

Trinity shook in anguish.  She deserved none of the praise Morpheus gave her.  She was selfish, driven by her own mind to seek out worship.  It had been acceptable as Elaina to exist as the attention starved flag soloist, craving opportunities to show off.  Now, she twirled among higher stakes.  Trinity couldn't afford to play games with the life of Morpheus, the heartbeat of the Resistance.

And yet, she'd done so anyway.  They'd been ambushed by a squad of policemen just before reaching their exit.  As the crew fought, Trinity had spotted a previously downed man reaching for his abandoned rifle.  She'd held her fire until the last possible moment, allowing him to draw closer to Morpheus.  Morpheus had turned in horror as the bootsteps came closer, unable to move fast enough to defend himself.  At that moment, she'd shot the man in a dramatic dive, earning the profound thanks of the Resistance captain.  It had made so much sense, at the time.  

Now, she felt the tears returning at her senseless endangerment of Morpheus.  What if she'd missed?  What if, during her dramatic pause, the lurking policeman had become an agent?  Trinity felt the blood draining from her face as she forced herself to finish her thoughts.  Morpheus could have, would have, died and it would have been her fault.

_Frantically swiping keys, she glared at her computer.  Damn it, shredding untouchable computer systems was supposed to make her feel better.  Instead, she felt sick.  She'd ripped into the IRS database as the wonderful high of her solo began to fade, a feat that should have sent her spinning into proud elation.  All she could think of were the hundreds of innocent people she'd wrecked havoc upon.  How many employees would be fired after the security breach?  How many families depended on their refund checks?  How many lives would suffer because of her?_

_She should feel powerful, accomplishing the impossible.  She felt empty.  When the phone rang in the deadened room, she barely flinched._

_She glanced at the abandoned pile of silk and sequins on the floor and at the black computer screen.  Morpheus promised he could save her.  It was time to take him up on it.  She picked up the receiver._

_"I'm ready."_

The Resistance was supposed to replace the vacancy in her soul.  Trinity pulled her knees tighter to her chest.  It hadn't.  She'd come, expecting gratification and admiration.  She'd found none.  So, she'd thrown herself into her role as a warrior, taking pleasure from the adrenaline rushes that their missions into the Matrix brought.  It wasn't enough.  Her mind craved worship; her heart ached for constant adoration.

She just wanted to make Morpheus proud of her.  She wanted desperately to live up to his praise of her devotion to the Resistance.  Fear swamped the back of her mind before each trip into the Matrix.  What if she failed in her missions?  What if she disappointed him?  In fighting to earn Morpheus' praise, she'd nearly destroyed him.  If only she stopped feeling this craving for worship, she would be able to act solely out of loyalty for the Resistance.

Trinity froze, startled by her previous thought.  No unbidden desires could enter a mind that refused emotion.  It was appalling.  Trinity gritted her teeth.  It had to be done.  She would struggle, fighting that urge, but she knew, in the end, she would eventually give in to the insatiable memories of reverence.  It was the only way to save them from herself.

She leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.  Trinity envisioned an empty football field at the peak of midnight.  She stood in the center of the field, the moon barely bright enough for her to see past the closest yard lines.  That was her life now: distant and silent, far from the trappings that ensnared her.  Free her mind.

The lights flickered on to reveal Trinity standing in the empty hallway.  She turned, then paused as she caught a glimpse of herself in the metal of a nearby pipe.  Trinity traced the reflection's expressionless mouth and caressed its darkened under-eyes.  Her hand froze as it reached the vacant gaze.  She blinked once, years of pain flickering to life in the momentary dip of her head, and then turned away, eyes blank once more.


End file.
